Yet another song with kink themes, and yet another character study. Most of my songs are, at heart, character studies, short-short stories in verse about people in my head. Here, too, there's infidelity, dissatisfaction, self-loathing. That last one is another classic: Sex, death, people, misery. Always.
That rippling noise on the chorus-y bit, beneath the five-part harmonies, is the clicking of glockenspiel mallets run through several filters and a barrage of echos. Not much else to say here. I guess the chords are tricky: I wrote this for two basses, à la "Fly-By-Night", so it's all melody interlocking with lots of changes. Still, prettier and marginally more straightforward than most things I write.
lyrics
the tick of the clock
stops on a dime,
but there's not enough space
and all too much time
so you move though the city in the black and white
to put a body in your bed to keep you warm at night.
skin meets skin, makes black and blue;
too little too late to feed the lack in you.
winsome shoulders, narrow hips,
demoniac smile on seraphic lips.
one man's want is another's need:
his nails are sharp and you want to bleed.
each empty dram
is a drag of lye,
and your chest feels hollow,
like you want to cry.
he takes you 'round back
while the music begins to play.
nothing comes cheap,
but you want to pay
a meaningful look in the pregnant silence,
with tender words suggesting violence;
casual hand on an open thigh;
tongue in foreign mouth, with an open eye.
sodium halo, opium bliss,
linoleum cracks and a conium kiss;
a fever-ward pillow for to put your head—
better off sleeping, better off dead.
do you get off
on the danger
when he fucks you
like a stranger?
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